


Ready, Set...

by maxiedear



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: College Student Lydia Deetz, Domestic Fluff, Ectoplasm, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Other, Pegging, Post-Canon, Post-Deetz, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, definitely headcanon heavy, is it still pegging if its a transman? who knows, musical!Beetlejuice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxiedear/pseuds/maxiedear
Summary: I unlock the door to the old, Victorian house I’m moving in to, still amazed I could afford such a home, and amazed by the people already living there. How will living with two ghosts and a demon go?-tags will be updated as I go-





	1. ...Creepy Old Guy?

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently gotten into the Beetlejuice The Musical (the musical, the musical) and have been reading some different fanfictions on tumblr. Which then made me appreciate Beej a little more. And subsequentially, here I am.

I unlock the door to the old, [Victorian house](https://www.houseplans.com/plan/1906-square-feet-3-bedroom-2-bathroom-1-garage-victorian-40216) I’m moving in to, still amazed I could afford such a home. Both the size and the extent of the renovations previous occupants had made, the house was a steal. With my meager possessions, it would take time to make the house feel like a home. The three bedrooms and office space meant I had room to spread out, which was definitely an upgrade compared to the small apartment I had before.

I start carrying in boxes and placing them in the living room before deciding where they belong. After I finish, I bring a box of dishes into the kitchen and see a scrappy man leaning against the stove, sipping a slushie and looking bored, before blinking out of sight. I place the box on the counter and shake my head. _I really need to sleep_, I think to myself. I start to put away my dishes before moving on to my bedroom. After finding the tools I need, I put together the new bedframe and take the mattress out of the box.

When I’m finished, I spread across the bare mattress and sigh. I knew I needed to shower, but that involved getting yet another box of things unpacked. I make myself sit up and groan, and see the same striped suit reflected in the window. After I rub my eyes, the image is gone. As I head downstairs to find the box of linens and towels, I see a couple standing just inside my doorway.

“Can… Can I help you?” I ask them, wondering why someone would let themselves into my new house.

“You can see us?” the man asks.

“Adam, I think he can see us,” the woman says, shaking his arm excitedly.

“Uh… yeah? I can see you, and you’re in my house,” I tell them.

“Well, it _was_ our house,” the man, Adam, says to me.

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” I say, offering my hand. “I’m Jay, I just moved in.” Adam’s hand is cold, making me shiver.

“I’m Adam, and this is Barbara,” he smiles.

“We’re dead,” Barbara grins.

“You’re… dead?” I ask hesitantly.

“We live in the attic now,” Adam smiles.

“So… you two are ghosts, yes?” I ask them.

“Yes,” Barbara answers.

“And you live here?”

“Right again,” she nods.

“Are you going to like… haunt me? In a mean way?”

“Not unless we need to,” she adds. “Beetlejuice might, but he’ll stop if you ask him to.”

“Don’t tell him about Beej,” Adam says to her. “We want to make a good impression, we haven’t met someone new since the Deetz’s left.”

“Is ‘beetle juice’ the guy in the stripes?” I ask them.

“Oh no, you’ve met him already?” Adam asks me.

“I’ve just seen reflections of some guy with green hair and wearing a striped suit,” I shrug. “You’re the first ghosts I’ve met, and as long as you’re not going to be malicious, you can stay.” Adam and Barbara quietly cheer with each other, and blip out of sight.

I sigh and rub my temples. I didn’t sign up for a haunted house, but Adam and Barbara seem friendly enough to not cause any troubles. From the way they talked about him, the guy in the suit may be a different story. _I guess I’ll deal with that when it comes up_, I think to myself. I find the box I came downstairs for, and make my bed before finally showering off the sweat and aches of the day.

\-----

As I continue unpacking the next day, I still see the reflections of the third ghost when I pass windows, in the mirrors, and off the refrigerator. Adam and Barbara help where they can, happily making conversation between themselves and with me. We unpack the rest of my bedroom, and I put away my clothes as they float around the room putting my knickknacks where they see fit.

“The previous family that lived here, the Deetzs, moved out because Lydia went to college,” Barbara tells me. “Some other people tried to move in before you, but Beetlejuice scared them away.”

“Does he just miss them?” I ask her.

“I don’t miss anyone, the other people just weren’t good fits for this house,” a gravely voice says from the doorway. “I’m still not convinced you are.” I turn to face the voice, and see the same striped suit and wild, green hair I’ve been seeing since yesterday.

“So, you finally decided to show yourself,” I smile.

“Don’t try me, babes,” he says to me.

“Don’t try me either, _babes_,” I say back to him. “They already told me your whole schtick, and I don’t have any reason to summon you. I’m alone and have a decent job with nobody for you to haunt.” I turn back to my clothes and Beetlejuice walks away, grumbling to himself.

“Wow, you handled that well,” Adam tells me.

“From what you’ve told me about him, he must not be that bad,” I shrug. “I’ll just have to get used to having you guys around.”

Later in the day I find Beetlejuice moping around the kitchen with another slushie.

“What’s up, buttercup,” I say to him, jolting him out of his reverie. “Or… beetlecup?”

“Beetlecup is pretty good,” he chuckles.

“Good, cuz I have more dad jokes and cringy pickup lines up my sleeve and I plan on using them,” I tell him, rifling through the cupboards for something to eat.

“Ughh, that’s supposed to be my thing,” he groans.

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” I grin. I find a box of cookies and tear into it, leaning against the counter and offering it to him. “I don’t know if ghosts eat, but you are drinking what seems to be a slushie so…” Beetlejuice eyes the box and sighs, taking it from me.

“I’m a demon, its different,” he tells me as he crunches. We stand in an awkward silence, passing the box to each other.

“I know I’m not Lydia, or any of the other people that have lived here, but I still want to at least get along,” I say, breaking our silence. “Just don’t smoke in the house, and don’t watch me shower. Again.”

“Damn, rules already?” he smirks. “It was a good show though.” Beetlejuice wags his tongue in between two fingers and winks at me. I punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone You’re not the only one I’ve met.”

I cross my arms and look him up and down. “You’re not as bad as Adam and Barbara make you out to be, you know.”

“Adam is a sexy idiot and Barbara is more of a haunter than he is. She had to die to feel alive again. I also may have a troubled, troubled past,” he says dramatically, pouting and batting his eyelashes at me.

“You and me both, but then again, I’m not a demon,” I tell him. “Don’t eat all those cookies, I’m not done with them,” I say as I head out of the kitchen to continue my unpacking, satisfied with the connection I made with the resident demon.


	2. ...Who Wants Pizza?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((no, I'm a vegan!))  
((((not really but it was funny))))

It’s been a few weeks and I’ve settled in to living with my unexpected roommates, as much as you can get used to living with two ghosts and a demon. Coming home to people waiting for me is new, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

“Juicy, I’m home,” I yell as I step through the front door, chuckling at my own over used joke. I stop and wonder what the neighbors would think if they heard me, but they’ve been living next to a haunted house for years now, what would they expect? I kick off my shoes and head up to my bedroom, not expecting a response from the aforementioned Juice.

“Wow, no welcome home kiss?” he asks me, appearing at my bedroom door. “After all these years we’ve spent together?”

“You weren’t at the door waiting for me, you’re an ungrateful husband. All the work I do for you…” I say, playing along as I peel off my shirt and change into pajama pants. “Dinner isn’t even on the table.”

“Dinner was at work, babes,” he winks. I groan at his inuendo, and collapse into my bed.

“Long day?” Beetlejuice asks me, popping from the doorway to the empty spot on the bed.

“Why do children scream so much? It’s just a Zamboni, let me do my job,” I rant, turning to face him. “I told everyone to get off the ice, but noooo, little Billy needs more skate time.”

“You ride a Zamboni?” he asks excitedly.

“I’m a manager at the ice arena, I do like, everything there. The rentals, the scheduling, the booking, and sometimes the Zamboni-ing,” I tell him.

“Can I ride the Zamboni?”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon Bluejay, I’ll be good,” he whines.

“I don’t believe that, and I also don’t make the rules,” I say, putting my head back into the pillow. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll order pizza.”

Beetlejuice cheers and leaves to do god knows what, leaving me alone to rest. Having someone ask how my day went is new, but it feels nice to have someone there to talk to about ridiculous ice rink patrons. This is a big house for one person, but with the unexpected roomies, it feels right.

I am jolted awake by pots and pans being banged together, making me jump and my ears ring.

“Rise and shine, its pizza time!” Beetlejuice yells.

“What the hell, Beets,” I cry out, covering my ears.

“Pizza’s here, babes, if you don’t want any, I’ll eat it for you,” he sings.

“Stop yelling, I’ll be down in a minute,” I groan. I hear him leave again, still banging the pots and pans. _He must have gotten impatient_, I think to myself, hoping he didn’t scare the delivery guy. And that he didn’t steal all of my cash.

I head downstairs and find Beetlejuice in the living room, flipping through my Netflix account with a slice of pizza hanging from his mouth.

“We’re watching Hallmark movies tonight,” he says through his full mouth, and swallows the rest of the slice whole. “The predictable and cliché plot lines are the perfect pairing for a long day, and pineapple and black olive pizza.”

“Did someone say Hallmark movies?” Adam yells excitedly, appearing from around the corner, Barbara in tow. “I love those!”

“Of course you do, A-dog,” Beetlejuice nods. Adam pops onto the couch, leaving me and Barbara standing. I sigh and sit between them, settling into the cushions and grabbing a slice of pizza.

“You guys have fun without me, I’m over those cheesy movies,” Barbara tells us, disappears from view.

Beetlejuice presses play on a Christmas movie, and begins his commentary on how each character either looks like a tool, a babe, or a dumbass, and compares each of us to different characters throughout the movie.

“Jay is definitely a minor side character type, but the kind that has all the good jokes,” he tells me, elbowing me in the side.

“Yeah, and you’re the dad who doesn’t know how to read a room,” I retort.

“Adam, you’re the damsel in distress, obviously,” Beetlejuice adds, pointing at the tears streaming down Adam’s face.

“It’s just so beautiful,” Adam cries as the credits roll.

“We need to watch something else. I need more excitement, or I’ll fall asleep again,” I tell Beetlejuice.

“Don’t worry Bluejay, I’ll put on something exciting,” he says to me, pulling up a random horror film.

“I’m out, I can’t do it. Just because I’m a ghost doesn’t mean I have to watch scary things,” Adam says before leaving, giving up his seat. I move over to where he was sitting, and throw my legs over BJ’s lap and lean my back against the arm rest.

“Aww, how am I supposed to nonchalantly wrap my arm around your shoulder now?” he grins.

“Not saying your plans out loud would be a good start,” I tell him. “You’ve seen how I sleep, BJ, I’m a cuddler. I don’t need nonchalance.”

“You sure do latch on to those pillows. You’re more of a baby than Adam,” he laughs. It sounds full and hearty, not like the ones I’ve heard before. I feel my cheeks warm, and rub my eyes so he doesn’t see.

As the movie plays, I relax into the cushions again and can see Beetlejuice do the same. His elbow is on the armrest, propping up his head as he smiles at the tv screen, while the other is spread across the back of the couch, his legs crossed on the coffee table. I watch him laugh as the protagonists scream, and feel a smile creep on to my face.

“I could do better than that guy,” he says to me. “I ‘_accidentally_’ killed a girl scout a few years ago, and she screamed more than these guys.” The air quotes cause some concern, but I shrug it off and turn back to the movie. 

“C’mere,” I say to him after a few minutes, patting the empty space on my chest. Beetlejuice gives me a confused look, and I sigh. “Just cuddle me, Beets. I’m tired and deprived.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice, babes,” he smiles, wrapping his arms around my middle and laying his head on my chest. He smells of rotting earth, like fallen leaves that have started to decay in late autumn. The weight of him is comforting and warm, and I don’t realize when I drift off.

“How the fuck did you fall asleep during a horror film?” Beetlejuice says to me, poking my cheeks to wake me up.

“Fuck off,” I grumble, swatting his hand away. “Get off me so I can go to bed.”

“Fine, fine. But I’m holding this against you,” he says as he sits up. “I’m not letting you forget that _you_ asked _me_ to cuddle.”

“Whatever makes you happy, Beets,” I tell him as I get up and head upstairs, a smile lingering on my lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In my usual fashion, I did floor plans/designs for the house so I know where things are when I'm writing. Here's whats in the house so far:

First floor: Living room set up, a pretty bare office and kitchen.

Second floor: Master bedroom, and an empty bedroom.

I like plants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted the first chapter of this and it quickly became my most kudos-ed work so I might as well keep going. 
> 
> Its hard for me to say "Beej" so I've been using "Beets" instead. 
> 
> And someone on tumblr made a post about him smelling earthy, and I vibed with that because I love the smell of rotting leaves, so here we are.


	3. ...Why Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going off the assumption that Beetlejuice doesn't have his whole physical form until someone summons him, making him a more permanent fixture in the mortal realm once he's there.

As the leaves turn brown and start to fall, I spread them across the lawn and over the few garden boxes Delia left behind. Barbara helps me start planning a garden, something she didn’t get to when she was alive, but did with Lydia and Delia when they lived here.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to make piles with those, babes,” Beetlejuice says from behind me.

“Not when you want the bugs to stick around, or want to protect the grass, or want the leaves to decay into mulch,” I tell him, mixing the leaves with the dirt of the garden boxes. _It smells like him_, I think to myself. Beetlejuice kneels down next to me, and rifles through the leaves.

“Hey, hey! Look at these little guys,” he says to me, holding out his hand. There are a few lady bugs crawling around on him, and I smile.

“Those are supposed to be good luck,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder.

“They taste okay, too,” he grins, sticking them to his tongue like some kind of demonic lizard. One of the lady bugs tries to fly away but crashes into my cheek, making me scrunch up my nose. Beetlejuice leans over, and I feel my ears warm when his face nears mine. He pauses for a second, then grins and licks my cheek, taking the lady bug with him.

I sit in shocked silence, face hot and eyes wide.

“What? Beetle got your tongue?” Beetlejuice laughs. I blubber an excuse before standing, and dash back into the house. I go straight to the laundry room and splash cold water on my face.

_ What the hell, Jay_, I think to myself. _He’s a demon. He probably has all kinds of people fawning over him, why would he ever want you? You manage an ice arena._ I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, chiding myself for lack of judgement. I head into the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge, but when I pop the tab the carbonation makes the foam run down my hand and onto the floor. I groan and put the can in the sink, letting it fizzle out as I wipe the floor.

“You look good on your knees,” Beetlejuice says, leaning over the counter.

“Really?” I grumble, shooting him a glare.

“Woah there, Bluejay,” he says, walking around the counter and kneeling in front of me. “Let me get this for you.”

“Why are you so… I don’t know, nice to me?” I blurt out.

“What?”

“You’re always good to me, but everyone else always says how much of an ass you are. How you’re mean, and sly, and always have tricks up your sleeve,” I tell him, standing and taking my drink out of the sink. “I moved in here after you kicked out who knows how many people, just because you were upset Lydia moved off to college and Charles and Delia decided to downsize. And now you’re here with me, cuddling with me whenever, helping me around the house… you haven’t even told Adam and Babs that I’m trans, and I haven’t caught you peeking at me since I moved in,” I rant to him. When I finish, I take a few gulps of my beer and wait for him to respond. Instead, I see a few strands of his hair turning pink, something I’ve only seen a few times. Once while we were cuddling, and once when I was a little drunk and yelling at a stupid movie.

“You think I’m nice?” he asks me, still kneeling on the floor. “I throw sex joke after sex joke at you, make messes, pinch your cheeks when you’re sleeping, make fun of your patchy facial hair…” He stands and takes a step towards me.

“You’ve got a sense of humor that isn’t too different from my own,” I shrug. “Just because you’re annoying doesn’t mean you’re not a good person.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a crush,” he grins. I scowl at him and sigh.

“You don’t want me, what’s the point in having something that doesn’t work.”

“And who told you that?”

“God, Beets, look at me,” I tell him. “I’m a manager at an ice rink, you’re a demon. I haven’t been on a date in years, and you can pop around the Netherworld and pick up whoever you want. My voice still cracks sometimes, and you’re here with that stupid, sexy, gravely voice. I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Neither am I,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and smiling softly. I take his faded, purple tie in my hand and rub the worn fabric between my fingers.

“Is this a trick?” I ask him.

“Why would I fake this? I have more to gain from _not_ faking I don’t have feelings for you than I ever would pretending to like you, Bluejay,” he tells me, pulling me closer. “Just say my name and I’m yours.”

“Beetlejuice…” I say, pulling on his tie. “Beetlejuice…”

“Just one more, babes,” he smiles, tilting his head to fit with mine.

“Beetlejuice,” I whisper, pressing my lips against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit they fuckin got cooties now
> 
> Hair changing hc is from littledanette and softbeej on tumblr!


	4. ... Stinky Old Guy

“When was the last time you washed this?” I ask Beetlejuice, holding up his striped suit jacket.

“Uh…”

“Have you… ever?”

“I don’t remember,” he admits. “It’s my brand, babes.”

“Its not. Give me your clothes,” I say, holding out my hand.

“Not the best pickup line,” he grumbles. “Do I have to?”

“If you want to keep cuddling with me, yes,” I tell him. “The grime doesn’t exactly feel good against skin, Beets.”

“I could just take it all off when you want me to,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Okay, take it all off,” I tell him. “All of it.”

“See, there’s a better way of asking me to get naked,” he smirks, slowly removing his clothes. I pick up every item he drops, even his striped boxers and socks. I throw a pair of pajama pants at him, and run downstairs to the laundry room. “Hey!”

“I never said _why_ I wanted you naked,” I yell back, quickly throwing everything in the washing machine and pressing start. Beetlejuice pops into the room next to me, wearing the pajamas and glaring. His hair has streaks of [dull orange](https://juicy-beetles.tumblr.com/post/187667374909/hey-i-made-some-beetlejuice-emojis-that-display) in it, a color I haven’t seen.

“I can’t believe you,” he says, crossing his arms in defiance.

“You just assumed I wanted something else from you,” I smirk. “It’s not my fault your mind is as dirty as your clothes.”

“You’re more evil than you look, Bluejay,” he glowers.

“Well, sucks to suck,” I say, heading back upstairs to wait out the washing machine. I lay down across my bed, spread across the comforter. When Beetlejuice comes back upstairs and sees me, he takes a running leap at the bed and lands right on top of me, crushing the air out of my lungs.

“What the hell,” I groan. I see his hair has changed from orange to a dusty pink, the strands mixed into his usual green.

“I have to get you back somehow,” he laughs, rubbing his beard against my cheeks. He sits up and straddles my legs, and grins down at me. I smile back at him, and run my hand through the hair on his belly and chest. “Like what you see, babes?”

I place my hands on his hips and sit up, keeping him in my lap. More of his hair turns pink, a mix of shades that tell me he’s both flustered and turned on. I knead the layer of fat on his hips and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his earthy scent. Beetlejuice slips his hands under the hem of my shirt, gently tugging it off. He runs his hands through my hair, cupping my cheeks in his palms.

“You never answered the question,” he grins.

“Yes, I like what I see,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I like what I feel too.”

“My squishiness?”

“Yeah, your squishiness,” I chuckle.

“What about this?” he asks, rolling his hips against mine. I hum and press my lips to his, and roll mine back. Beetlejuice smiles, and pops out of existence.

“I deserved that,” I say to the now empty space. I hear the washing machine buzz and go to switch the hopefully clean suit, grumbling to myself for falling for his tricks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I did that. Not sorry. 
> 
> The hair color ideas and art are by juicy-beetles on tumblr! I know others (like littledanette and softbeej) have made their own hcs about his hair, and their art shows a large range of emotions and how his hair responds to them!


	5. ...Yes, You (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part is fluff, under the line of tildes is the second part, smut.

I’m late coming home from work, and find the house quiet and seemingly empty. I call out for Beetlejuice, who is usually waiting for me in the breakfast nook to come home. I check the office and living room, but find both empty. When I go upstairs to check the bedroom, I see a tuft of blue hair sticking out of a lump of blankets on the bed, and his clothes in a pile on the floor.

“Babes?” I say softly, sitting down next to the lump and pulling back the blankets. I uncover Beetlejuice’s face, and see his hair streaked with purples and deep blues, and his eyes and cheeks glowing faintly. “Oh honey, what’s wrong?” I ask him, pulling more of the covers off of him.

“You weren’t home at the usual time,” he whispers to me. “My brain said you were just late, but my other brain said you weren’t coming back. You didn’t want to come back…”

“Why wouldn’t I want to come back?” I ask him, scooting closer and running my fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know… because you don’t like me? Because everyone leaves eventually…”

“I’m not leaving you,” I tell him. “I live here with you, and I don’t want to leave. Someone would have to pull me out of your arms to get me to leave you.”

“But—”

“No buts, Beets. Only your butt,” I say. Beetlejuice chuckles, and his hair starts to fade back to green. “Can I join you in there?”

“Please do,” he nods. I take off my clothes, adding them to the pile he already made and make a note in my head to wash all of it before he can put his back on. He lifts the blankets up to let me in to his nest, and I cuddle in next to him. We settle into each other’s arms, and I wipe his tear stained cheeks.

“I didn’t know you glowed,” I tell him.

“It’s a side effect of being dead. Ectoplasmic secretions or something,” he explains.

“So, like… everything?”

“Yeah, everything,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I chuckle and let my palm rest against his cheek, lightly rubbing it with my thumb. We sit together in comfortable silence, spending time just being together, relaxed in the darkness as the sun sets behind the curtains.

“Beets?”

“Bluejay?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” I tell him. He sits up in surprise, staring at me with wide eyes, his hair turning a mix of light green and yellow. “Uh… I mean--”

“Say it again,” he says, his gravely voice deep and stern.

“I love you,” I say softly. He leans over me, placing his hands on either side of me.

“Again,” he says, softer this time. His hair goes from yellow to pink, and his eyes glow a pale green. I run my fingers through his hair, smiling up at him.

“I love you, Beetlejuice,” I whisper to him. He crashes into me, his lips moving against mine. His rough hands run down my sides, caressing and squeezing my soft skin. I moan when he brushes his tongue over mine, positioning himself in between my legs. He wraps my thighs around his hips and ruts against me, groaning into my mouth. I whimper as he kisses and bites down my neck, his teeth sharp but gentle.

~~~~~~~~~~

Beetlejuice pulls away and looks down at me, and a grin spreads across his face. His teeth and lips are glowing green, brighter than the tear streaks on his cheeks.

“Wow, babes, green is a good color on you,” he chuckles.

“Am I glowing?” I ask him.

“You’re absolutely radiant,” he says to me, slipping his fingers under the waistband of my underwear, pulling them off. He removes his own, and rubs his thick, glowing cock against me. “I’ll make you glow even more.”

I moan as he eases in, relishing how he slowly stretches and fills me. Beetlejuice rests his forehead against mine, shuddering from the sensation.

“You always feel so good, baby,” he groans, pushing himself all the way in. He waits a moment before pulling out, then snaps his hips against mine, making me cry out. As he rolls his hips into me, he squeezes my hips, holding them close to him. I grasp at his thighs, digging my nails into his flesh as he quickens his pace.

“You like that? Does that feel good?” he grins, his hair a dark pink and face flushed.

“You’re such a good boy, Beets,” I pant, running my hands up his chest and wrapping my arms around his neck. He growls and bites my shoulder, hungry for more.

“Fuck, babe—” his breath hitches, his thrusting growing erratic.

“Be a good boy and cum for me,” I tell him, the knot inside me growing tighter and tighter. He whines as he spills inside me, pushing me over the edge. When he pulls out, he paints more of his seed across my stomach.

Beetlejuice wraps his arms round me, nuzzling into my neck, catching his breath.

“I love you,” he whispers to me. “I love you, Jay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hc that Beetlejuice's well.... juices... are ectoplasmic and glow are from softbeej and soft-for-arachnid-sauce on tumblr! I love it.


	6. ... Hey Mom

It’s my day off and I’m sitting on the couch with Beetlejuice across my lap, the Maitlands sitting on the other side of the coffee table, playing a boardgame they found hiding in their attic.

“I can’t believe we haven’t played this,” Adam says.

“I can’t believe we didn’t burn it after we died,” Barbara adds.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve changed,” Beetlejuice tells them. “Except you, Adam. You’re about the same.” Barbara laughs as Adam grumbles to himself, kissing him on the cheek when she’s done.

“I still love him all the same,” she says. We continue our game, sitting and chatting with each other. When I hear someone knock on the door, I give everyone a confused look and they shrug. I pry Beetlejuice from my lap, and go to answer.

“Oh,” I say when I open it. At my doorstep is a young woman, wearing black but smiling.

“This is probably weird, but I used to live in this house, and I wanted to visit it,” she tells me.

“You must be Lydia,” I smile.

“So they—” she starts, getting cut off by loud footsteps running towards us.

“LYDS?” Beetlejuice yells, pushing past me. “My BFFFF?”

“Beej!” Lydia yells back, laughing as he pulls her into a crushing hug. Adam and Barbara come to the door after him, grinning when they see the two of them together. I stand back and let them greet each other, a smile on my face.

“Okay, okay, you’re letting the heat out. Come inside,” I tell everyone, starting to feel the chill.

“I take it you know,” Lydia says to me as she removes her jacket and shoes.

“I know. Adam and Barbara introduced themselves the day I moved in. Beetlejuice took some time to come around, but I’m glad he did. I’m Jay,” I say, extending my hand to her.

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to make a weird excuse to come inside for a bit, or have to stake out the porch when you weren’t home,” she grins.

“Lydia, come over and sit,” Barbara yells from the living room. “We need to know everything that’s been going on with you.”

“Okay, mom,” Lydia laughs. I follow her and tell her to sit wherever, and Beetlejuice is instantly at her side.

“Tell me where you’ve been, why didn’t you come sooner?” he asks her, his hair an array of greens. I sit back and let them all reconnect, happy to just listen. The smile on Beetlejuice’s face is blinding, and Adam and Barbara look like proud parents. After a little while, I go to the kitchen to find something for everyone to eat.

“Babes? Where are you going?” Beetlejuice asks me.

“I’m coming back, I’m just getting snacks,” I yell to him. Instead of waiting, he blinks into the kitchen next to me, helping me find something Lydia will like. He kisses my cheek before walking with me back with his haul. He sits in between Lydia and me this time, sitting back and resting his arm on the back of the couch behind me.

As the afternoon turns to evening, I’ve found myself subconsciously easing closer and closer to Beetlejuice, my hand now on his thigh and my head against his shoulder. His arm has fallen around my shoulders, keeping me close to him. Lydia turns to us, and gives us a confused look, and raises her eyebrow at both Maitlands.

“It took some getting used to,” Adam sighs.

“Hey! I see you two doing stupid, cheesy shit together all the time,” Beetlejuice interjects, and my face goes red.

“We thought he had just found a new friend, but…” Barbara adds.

“Do we have to talk about this? Now?” I ask them, not wanting to go into our relationship.

“I think they’re in love,” Adam grins. I bury my face in my hands and take a deep breath, waiting for Lydia or Beetlejuice to say something, but when I look at his face and hair, I can see how uncomfortable and flustered he is. His hair is highlighter yellow with streaks of pink to match the blush across his cheeks.

“Beej? In love?” Lydia says, sounding amazed and blown away.

“Yeah, yeah, the demon fell in love,” Beetlejuice admits, his hair slowly turning back to its usual green. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“I’m happy for you, BJ,” Lydia says to him.

“You are?” he asks.

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she laughs. “You’re my best friend, that’s all I could ever want.”

“Aw, Lyds,” he says, wrapping his arms around her. “We raised you well.”

“You didn’t raise her, you enabled her,” Barbara exclaims.

“Same thing,” Beetlejuice shrugs. They laugh together, and continue their reminiscing.

The daylight has long faded, and I can tell Beetlejuice is getting antsy. His hair is slowly turning blue, and his knee is bouncing with anxiety.

“Come help me,” I say in his ear, pulling him to his feet and taking him into the office. “What’s wrong, honey?” He stands still for a moment, then wraps his arms around me.

“She’s going to leave soon,” he tells me. “What if she never comes back? What if I don’t get to see her again?”

“She’ll be back,” I say. “She knows where you are, and that she can come here without having to explain why.”

“I know, but…”

“How about this; I’ll get her phone number or email, and then you can talk to her whenever,” I offer, running my fingers through his hair. He nods into my shoulder and I hold him for another moment before taking him back to the living room. Beetlejuice tries to hide his hair by standing behind me, clutching my hand.

“Hey, Lydia?” I ask her, handing her my phone. “Can we have your email? Or phone number? You know how he gets…”

“Of course,” she says, entering in her information. “Since I don’t have to find excuses to be let in, I’ll tell my dad and Delia they can stop by too.”

“Thanks, Lyds,” Beetlejuice says, his hair going back to normal. Everyone says their goodbyes, and Lydia spends extra time hugging Beetlejuice, and includes me in her farewells.

As Lydia leaves, Beetlejuice squeezes my hand.

“Thank you, Bluejay. For, you know…”

“You’re welcome,” I say, kissing his cheek.


	7. ... Ice Cold

It’s late, but I’m up in the living room watching the hockey game. I sit on the edge of my seat, watching as the puck gets passed back and forth between players. I cringe when a player gets slammed against the boards, falling to the ice with an apparent concussion.

“Do you not get enough of this at work?” Beetlejuice asks me, leaning back into the couch.

“Why do you think I work at an ice arena?” I ask him. “I love being on the ice, and watching stuff that happens on the ice. Both hockey and figure skating, and watching the kids do it warms my cold, cold heart.”

“You don’t feel very cold, babes,” he tells me, placing his hand on the back of my neck. “Are you okay?”

“The fireplace is on,” I shrug. We watch the rest of the game and head upstairs to get ready for bed. I take a cool shower, washing away the day and warmth from the fire. When I finish, I crawl into bed with Beetlejuice, stretching my arms over my head and patting my chest, asking for him to lay with me.

“Hmm,” he hums, placing the back of his head on my forehead. “I’m not convinced it was the fire, baby. You still feel warmer than usual.”

“I’m fine, Beets. I haven’t been sick in years,” I tell him, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and pulling him to me. He lays his head on my chest, letting me play with his hair until I fall asleep.

The next morning, I wake up aching, my shoulders and neck stiff. I try to stretch it out, telling myself it’s from sleeping in the same position all night. My head is pounding by the time I make it to the kitchen, my nose stuffed and throat sore.

“How are you feeling?” Beetlejuice asks me, coming up behind me and kissing my nape. “Damn, what the fuck?” He presses his lips to my neck again, then his forehead. “Baby, I don’t think this is normal.”

“Ugh, I can’t be sick,” I tell him, turning around to face him.

“Holy shit, Bluejay,” he says, eyes wide and hair turning orange. “You look like death. I should know, I’ve met her.”

“Is it that bad?” I ask him. “I have work…”

“Stay home with me today, they can manage without you at work,” he pleads. “Babs probably knows what to do, she’s a mom.” He blinks out of existence, going up to the attic for help. I sit down at the table, head in my hands, and feel how hot I really am.

_Dammit_, I think to myself. _I even got the friggin flu shot… _

“Let me feel,” Barbara says to me. She feels my neck and forehead, then nods. “Yep, you’re going back to bed.” I groan in protest, and she shushes me. “You can’t fight me on this, Jay. Take a bath and stay with Beej, I’ll find something to make for you.”

“Thanks, Barbara,” I smile. She shoos me away, and I head back upstairs.

I find Beetlejuice in the bathroom, already running the tap for the bath.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I can manage.”

“I know you can, just let me take care of you,” he says softly. I nod and hand him the bag of bath salts, telling him how much to put in. I remove my pajamas and check the water, making sure he isn’t making it too hot, and climb into the tub.

I close my eyes and relax into the warm water, letting it soothe my aching muscles, and the steam takes some of the pressure out of my sinuses. I try to massage the tension from my shoulders, but Beetlejuice slides into the tub and bats my hands away.

“I’ve got you,” he says as he kneads his thumbs into the muscles surrounding my neck, letting me lean into him. I sigh as he kisses across my shoulders, his strong hand massaging down my arms. “I knew you were too warm,” he chuckles.

“I don’t know how you could tell,” I say.

“I have my ways,” he smiles.

We soak together until the water cools, and I stay in the tub as it drains. When all the water is gone, Beetlejuice wraps me in a towel and dries me off before picking me up and carrying me back to bed. He blinks out of the room and returns with a mug of tea and a plate of eggs and toast, and I yell out a thank you to Barbara.

Beetlejuice cuddles into bed next to me, letting me lean against him as I eat. When I finish, I lay my head on his chest and wrap my legs around his, getting comfortable for a day in bed. He rubs my back as I relax into him, dozing off in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lovebugbeej on tumblr is sick and got a prompt/ask about having BJ cuddle and take care of someone, so I wrote for it.


	8. ...Good Boy (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is VERY nsfw, my guys.

I roll myself on top of Beetlejuice, rubbing his sides as my mouth moves against his. I pull off his tie and throw it in the pile with his jacket and pants, quickly unbuttoning his shirt. He moans into my mouth as I wrap my tongue around his, tasting his glowing saliva and breathing in his earthy scent.

“Fuck, babe,” he gasps when I bite down on his neck, kissing and licking the mark I made. “What’s gotten into you?”

“The need to be inside you,” I smirk. His face flushes, and he tries to speak but stumbles over his words. “You didn’t think I was a bottom, did you? You’ve been such a good boy, Beets, let me make you feel good.” He whimpers as I palm his already hard cock, turning into mush by my praise. I dig through my bedside table, finding the bottle of lube and the strap-on I keep there.

“Wha—where?” Beetlejuice asks.

“If you were looking through my toys, you must not have looked hard enough,” I tell him, removing both of our underwear. His thick member pops free of its restraints, and I pour the lube over my fingers. “Are you ready, baby?”

“Yes_, please_,” he tells me. I position myself between his legs, rubbing my slick fingers against his awaiting entrance. He gasps when I push one in, going slow even though I know he can take more.

“Good boy,” I say softly, pressing in another. His gravely moans fill the room as I pump in and out, crying out when I brush over the sensitive gland hidden inside him. “Does that feel good?”

Beetlejuice nods vigorously, a guttural groan coming from his throat. I grin down at him, the sight of his flushed hair and cheeks and his hooded eyes exciting and new. He whines when I pull out my fingers, and a high pitched one escapes his lips as I press the dildo strapped to me into him. I slowly enter him, relishing the resistance and pressure against my clit, pulling his hips to mine.

“What a good boy, taking me all at once,” I say to him, running my hands over his chest and stomach. I start to thrust into him, leaning over and catching his mouth with mine. He wraps his arms around my neck, rocking his hips with mine. I keep a steady pace, making him grow impatient.

“Come on, Bluejay, fuck me already,” he begs. “I can take it.”

“I know. But I like seeing you squirm and beg,” I hum. When I snap my hips against his, he grins up at me. I hook his knee over my elbow, stretching him to hit deeper. His eyes roll back and he moans deep and low as I fuck him, bliss spreading across his face. “God, you’re beautiful,” I tell him, fully meaning it. He laughs through his breathy moans, and cups my face in his rough hands.

“You feel so good, baby,” he says before pulling me into another kiss. Its messy and our teeth clack together, but it feels right. As I reach my climax, I wrap my hand around the head of his dripping cock, gently squeezing as I continue to thrust into him. Beetlejuice’s legs start to shake, and his whimpering reaches a high pitch.

“You’re such a good boy, Beets,” I pant, moaning into his neck as I’m pushed over the edge. “My good boy.”

Beetlejuice cries out as he cums, his seed spilling over his stomach. The glow paints his skin a pale green, lighting up our bodies.

“Holy shit,” he sighs as I pull out, leaving him empty. I lay down next to him and pat my chest, inviting him to cuddle up to me as we catch our breath. “Fuck, we need to do that again.”

“Dang, give me a few minutes,” I chuckle. Beetlejuice just laughs and wraps his arm around my middle, resting his head on my shoulder. I pepper kisses over his forehead, making him giggle. His hair starts to fade back to green as I run my fingers through it.

“I love you,” I whisper to him.

“I love you too.”


	9. ...Am I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: dysphoria

I come home from work and drop my bag at the door and kick off my shoes, and look for Beetlejuice in his usual spots around the house. I find him standing in the kitchen, microwaving what smells like the pizza rolls I thought I hid deep enough in the freezer. I come up behind him and rest my forehead against his back, and pinch the fabric of his suit jacket between my fingers.

“Hey, baby, how was work?” he asks me, turning off the beeping of the microwave. I clutch his jacket in both hands and try to take a deep breath. “Bluejay?”

He turns around and wraps his arms around me, letting me bury my face in the curve of his neck. I breathe in his earthy scent, smoothing my hand over his worn tie. The smell of fallen leaves and freshly turned soil helps bring me back to myself, and Beetlejuice’s arms help reground me. He holds me for a few minutes, gently rubbing my back.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks quietly.

“Do I look like a man?” I ask back.

“What? Of course you do,” he tells me, pulling away so he can look at me. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know… my brain tells me I don’t, that my voice is too high, that my cheeks are too round, that everyone can tell…”

“Jay, I’ve met a lot of people over the years. I’ve met men with softer cheeks than yours, women with deeper voices, and a lot of people that are in between,” he says, cupping my face in his hands. “I know you’ve worked hard to get to where you are now, and if Adam and Babs haven’t suspected anything, nobody else has. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for being who you are.”

“I know…” I see his hair has streaks of blues and purples, intruding his usual mossy green.

“You’re so handsome, Bluejay,” he says as he presses his forehead to mine. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I’m sure you’ve been with better,” I whisper.

“Nobody else has ever loved me like you do. Nobody else has held me, sang with me, danced with me, slept with me, or even sat in the same room as me the way you do,” he says.

“Nobody has ever loved me the way you do,” I tell him. Beetlejuice smiles softly and presses a kiss to my forehead, his scruff scratching my skin. I rub my own against his neck, making him hum.

“Do more of that,” he purrs, tilting his head so I can run my cheek over more of his bare skin, and gently kiss behind his ear. “Is this what it feels like when I give you beard rubs?”

“Probably,” I giggle. “I’m glad to have indulged you.” Beetlejuice pulls away to look at me again, the streaks in his hair changing to soft pink.

“I’ll eat anyone who says you’re not a man,” he grins.

“Would that stop you from stealing my pizza rolls?” I laugh. Beetlejuice just keeps grinning, and reaches for the plate he took out of the microwave.

“Who said I wasn’t making these for my beloved boyfriend?”

“I know you better than that,” I tell him, taking the plate from him anyways. “Thanks, Beets.”

“You’re welcome, Bluejay,” he replies, snatching a couple pizza rolls from the plate.


	10. ... On Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my love of hockey/skating, as well as a post made by beetle-cat on tumblr!

I grumble at my morning alarm, turning it off and sitting up in bed. Winter days mean a later sunrise, and more people to deal with at work. Hockey season is in full swing, and keeping patrons and leagues happy is a lot. I think about the schedule for today and sigh, remembering there are kiddie games and an adult game later in the evening.

I crawl out of bed, trying to keep quiet even though I know Beetlejuice doesn’t actually need sleep. I put on a hoodie and slippers and head downstairs.

“Good morning, time to start the day,” I sing softly. I turn on the electric kettle and find a clean mug, making myself coffee and toaster waffles as I hum to myself. While I’m not a morning person, once I’m up and moving it is easy for me to motivate myself to stay awake. I dance to the song in my head as I stir milk into my coffee, and hear Beetlejuice come downstairs.

“The song says ‘working nine-to-five’, not ‘wake up at eight to open an ice arena at ten’,” he tells me, walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle, swaying to the rhythm in his own head. “_What a way to make a living_,” he sings to me, burying his face in my hair. I eat my waffles at the counter, happily swaying in his arms as he sings his good mornings.

“I have to get dressed,” I laugh as he presses kisses to my cheeks and neck, scratching my cheeks with his beard.

“Stay with me today,” he offers.

“I can’t, there’s a couple games to play and nobody else will run the dang scoreboard,” I tell him. His hair fades into a light blue, then quickly changes into back into a dark green.

“Can I come with you?” he asks excitedly.

“What?”

“Take me to work with you,” he begs. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll just stand behind you and say mean things to people that are rude.” I think about it for a moment, considering the pros and cons of him coming with me. Admittedly, there are mostly cons.

“Do you promise to listen to me?” I ask him.

“Pinky promise,” he says, extending his hand to me to seal the promise. I link my pinky finger with his, and his face lights up.

~~~~~

I get Beetlejuice ready, making him tame his hair to an appropriate amount of fluff, and get him into the car with our lunches. I put him in one of my hockey jerseys so he wouldn’t stick out so much, wearing a black and white striped suit to an ice rink wasn’t a normal occurrence. He sings along to the radio as I drive us to the arena, making up songs to the beats of the ones he doesn’t know. 

“Have you ever skated before?” I ask him as we walk in, taking him to the office.

“Why would I?” he shrugs. “Lydia wasn’t ever into it, and I definitely haven’t met someone that _works_ at an ice rink.”

“Do you want to try?” I smile. He looks nervous, and fiddles with his hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

I find a pair of skates that will fit him and take him down to the ice, and sit him down on a bench to tie his skates properly. I put on my own and help him stand, and smile as he stumbles.

“I’ve got you, Beets,” I tell him. “Just take it slow.” I take him out on the ice, staying close to the boards so he has something to lean on if he lets go of me.

“Can I watch you do it first?” he asks, his voice and body language showing none of its usual confidence. “I really don’t know how this works…”

“I guess, but I can’t guarantee that you’ll really learn from it,” I say as I bring him back to the bench. He watches as I step back on to the ice, and I go through the routine I sometimes do before the rink opens.

I skate a few laps, warming up my body before continuing. I practice switching edges, mohawks, skating backwards, idly spinning on my skates. I look back to Beetlejuice and see him watching intently, his eyes wide as I show off my speed and balance. He blushes when I blow him a kiss, his hair turning pink as I skate back to him.

“Think you can handle me?” I grin.

“No, but you can handle _me_ later,” he smirks, catching my lips with his. I hum as he runs his fingers through my hair, leaning farther over the boards to meet him. “_Fuck_, that was sexy. Is skating always like that? Do you do this without me?”

“Well, yeah, if I have extra time before opening or before we close, I skate as often as I can,” I tell him. “Do still want to try? We have time.”

Beetlejuice nods and lets me take him on to the ice again, this time a little more confident in himself. I position myself in front of him, holding his hands as I pull him along.

“That’s it, babe,” I encourage him, watching as he concentrates on moving his feet like I did. “You’re skating!”

“I am?” he asks, looking down at his feet. “I’m doing it!” I laugh at his enthusiasm, squeezing his hands and slowly letting go. “Nooo, no no no--“

“You’ve got this, I’m right here,” I assure him. He stumbles a little and catches one of my hands, but keeps moving forward next to me. We skate a lap around the rink, hand in hand. “You’re a fast learner,” I tell him.

“I’ve got a good-looking teacher to motivate me,” he grins, kissing my cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy, long time no update. I made a big international move at the end of March, so I've been taking time to adjust to life and full-time work. If you would like to check in with that side of my life, feel free to check out my personal blog: adragoninjapan.tumblr.com !


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